


Surprise

by jenny_of_oldstones



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-24 03:05:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1589369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenny_of_oldstones/pseuds/jenny_of_oldstones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke decides to give Fenris a sexy surprise....with unexpected results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“A...surprise?” 

Fenris flattened his hands on the table, crinkling the parchment of the opened correspondence littered there. Hawke didn't need to stop writing to know one thick black eyebrow was raised at him.

_“Garrett.”_

“I know, you hate surprises,” said Hawke. Understatement. Surprising Fenris usually ended with a glowing fist through the ribcage or, in his case, a broken nose and a splattered anniversary cake. “Indulge me this once, will you?” 

Fenris tapped a clawed finger on the table. The elf had just gotten back from mercenary assignment—a disappointing raid on a smuggler's den on the Wounded Coast that had yielded little more than broken bones and crate after crate of hard cheese and Orlesian tickling feathers. The trip had been a wearying one, and Fenris’s mood had yet to lift.

“Just meet me at your place tomorrow at midnight and I'll give it to you,” said Hawke.

“It.” Tap tap tap. 

“Trust me, love.” Hawke smirked and swirled a flourish on his signature. “It’ll be a sight.” 

#

The next night Hawke stole into Fenris’s mansion like a thief, taking the stairs two at a time and sweeping into the empty master bedroom. He threw down his knives and startled to unbuckle his armor. It would take Fenris at least twenty minutes to walk back from the Hanged Man—more than enough time for Hawke to prepare.

It had required some additional arm twisting to get Fenris to go to Wicked Grace without him. The elf had naturally been suspicious (the excuse that Hawke needed to wash his mabari "before the surprise" did lack a certain credibility) but in the end he'd shrugged and started the long walk to Lowtown alone. It had stung to see a slump in Fenris' shoulders, but Hawke had a feeling he’d perk up soon.

Hawke skinned off the last of his gear and smallclothes and jumped into bed. The down mattress whoofed under him. He twisted his body into it with a heavenly sigh. The first thing Fenris would see when he walked through the door was a very naked, very happy to see him Champion.

It was going to be a good night.

The midnight bell sounded across Hightown. Fenris would be collecting his winnings, if not halfway across Lowtown by now. Hawke grinned and pawed around the floor until he found their cruet of oil.

Truth be told he was nervous. He wasn’t the kind of man to do this sort of thing, but something about Fenris’s long, sad face the last few days had squeezed his heart enough to put the idea in his head. Worst case scenario Fenris would be too drunk to perform, or bust a gut laughing the moment he walked in.

 _Fortunately,_ thought Hawke, toying with his balls and relaxing into the mattress, _I doubt that will be the case._

Hawke pressed his face into the feather pillow and sighed. It smelled of sweat and oily hair, and the dark forest floor musk that belonged distinctly to Fenris. Hawke inhaled until his lungs ached and electricity arced up his cock. 

Maker, it was going to be a _very_ good night.

Taking an overabundant dollop of oil, Hawke greased his hand and started working his shaft. He was already half hard from nerves and the filthy fantasies he'd been indulging since morning. He flung an arm across his face and imagined it was his lover stroking him instead.

_The elf's grip on his cock was gentle but demanding. Fenris moved his slicked palm at an agonized pace, until Hawke moaned and bucked his hips, raising his ass and begging to be taken-_

The quarter bell sounded. Hawke slowed his strokes and frowned. Fenris should have been here by now….unless the Carta or Coterie jumped him....but no, Fenris was careful. The elf was a shadow, and stalked the night with all the vigilance of a wolf. There were not many street thugs who could take Fenris unawares or even drunk.

More urgently, Hawke's cock was starting to hurt. 

Dipping his fingers back into the cold oil he drew up a knee against his chest. The thought of skipping foreplay and getting straight to fucking had a certain appeal….one that Fenris with his appetites would appreciate. 

_Fenris worked his fingers into Hawke's tight ring of muscle, turning two, then three in deep, slow corkscrews. Hawke's body quivered with need as he hooked his arms behind his knees and spread himself, the small wet smacks of Fenris's fingers stretching him already driving him mad. Each time the tip of Fenris' middle finger brushed that magic spot it eased away until Hawke was almost keening, desperate to let Fenris know he wanted him, that he was his. Fenris gave a smug grin and withdrew his touch, just as Hawke thought he might finally find release, and lowered his warm tongue to Hawke's entrance. His branded hands slid up Hawke's quaking thighs as Hawke's head fell back-_

Flames, where was that man?

The half bell sounded. Sighing, Hawke got up and started to poke around. Rude, but if Fenris was going to keep him waiting like this then why not. He flipped through the parchment on the table (writing exercises, an ordinance from the Viscount's office on proper corpse removal) examined the titles of books on the shelf, plucked a few notes on the lute with his toe, stoked the fire—

Something was terribly wrong.

The oil chilled on his pucker and his erection flagged. No, he would not believe that. Wicked Grace ran over all the time. There were a million things that could delay Fenris. He'd struck up a good conversation, drank too much, had accidentally gone back to Hawke’s manor and was waiting for him there…

_Or is lying in a ditch._

No, no no no that was beyond paranoid. And even if something was amiss, what good would it do him to run out and scour all of Kirkwall? He just needed to give it fifteen more minutes, needed to distract himself.

Hawke rummaged through a desk drawer. Inside was a length of ribbon, a copy of Hard in High Town: Siege Harder (really, Fenris?), a bottle containing a dead scorpion, a stolen Chantry prayer candle….

 _Ah._ Hawke grinned. _Sorry Andraste._

Taking the ribbon he tied a tight bow around his cock (just enough to perk it up) then took the candle back to the bed where he coated it in oil and carefully, inch by inch, slid it inside himself.

 _Mmmf, better,_ he thought, and stroked himself back into fantasy.

_Fenris pinned Hawke's wrists over his head and settled his knees under his thighs so he was full on display. He teased his slick cock along Hawke's cleft, pressing into him before sliding up past his balls and down again to his waiting entrance. Hawke was sobbing, arching his back wantonly, every nerve inside him aching with the need to be filled. Without warning Fenris slid into him. Hawke gasped, then gasped again and again as Fenris patiently began to fuck him with increasingly harder thrusts. He melted into it, yielding, letting Fenris have him, enjoying the way Fenris' face contorted in a combination of raw pleasure and control. He drove faster, deeper, until the slap of flesh on flesh was drowned out only by Hawke's moans for more. Deep, so deep, pounding him, hitting the spot that turned his limbs to water and his dignity to ash, his body clenching and his muscles milking that glorious elf's cock—_

Hawke came with a startled cry. He hadn't even _touched_ himself and he was spurting all over his chest. He lay there astonished, sticky, with a red Chantry prayer candle lodged in his ass.

_I wonder if this counts as a sin...._

Just then the front door of the manor creaked open. 

Hawke slapped his forehead. Dammit. That would teach the elf to keep him waiting. Hawke tried to pull the candle out but his muscles were still clamping around it. Meanwhile a shoulder thudded the front door back into its swollen frame. Soft, bare footsteps padded across the foyer, followed by voices—

Voices.

Hawke’s eyes snapped open. 

“—don’t know why you didn’t just take the winnings.” Donnic’s voice floated up the staircase.

“It would have been cruel to Merrill,” said Sebastian.

“Because priests who don't gamble should have a say in those of us who do,” said Fenris bitterly. 

_Shit!_ Hawke sprang to his feet. He bounced left then right, blighted candle still stuck up his ass—

-and mashed a pillow it over his cock a split second before Fenris, Guardsman Donnic, and Sebastian Vael came through the door. 

“Hawke!” Fenris jerked back. 

All conversation died. Three sets of eyes lowered to the pillow across Hawke’s lap. 

_Venhedis, Fenris!_

“Gentlemen,” said Hawke, rocking back on his heels with as much dignity as he could muster, voice only cracking a little. “Boys' night in?” 

No one answered. Sebastian and Donnic were both looking to Fenris, who was at a loss for words. 

To make matters worse, the candle was slipping.

 _No, no!_ Hawke clenched his glutes as hard as he could—

"Funny story, I was just giving my dog a bath because Fenris said I could use his house seeing as it's already a dump and my clothes got wet so -" 

The candle rattled to the floor. Three sets of eyes followed it as it rolled across the tile and came to a stop at the fireplace, oil glistening down its length in the firelight for all to see.

Donnic muttered a 'Sweet Maker' and strode from the room. Sebastian had good grace to find a particularly interesting cobweb to look at. And Fenris....Fenris was blinking at the open desk drawer. That was for the best. The shame banking off Hawke could have lit a furnace.

“Well.” Hawke wasn’t sure how it was possible to sound like he’d been kicked in the balls without, well….have actually been kicked in the balls. “I should….probably…..go…..now……yes.”

Hawke bent stiffly to gather his clothes. He did not look at Fenris as he left. He did not excuse himself when he ran smack into Guardsman Donnic’s armor and bounced off the banister before dashing downstairs and across the dark foyer faster than an angry shade. The first time he stopped was in the antechamber to tug his trousers on and let out a gross sob, then made a run for it.


	2. Chapter 2

"Go away, Orana." Hawke buried his face in his pillow. He could still hear the poor girl's bony little knuckles rattling on his door like a nervous woodpecker. "I'm not hungry." 

"It's Mast--Messere Fenris. Messere." Her voice was high and terrified, which could only mean-

Hawke bolted upright. Despite his instructions not to admit guests today the servants had of course let in the one and only exception to that rule because he was not a guest at all. Hawke cursed and tugged on a long nightshirt, scrubbing his fingers through his dirty hair to look halfway presentable. Taking a deep breath, he unlocked the door and cracked it open.

Sure enough, Orana stood next to Fenris, trembling like a muskrat beside a wolf. Fenris at least had the tact to not wear his usual murderous scowl. 

"I told him you were still asleep, Messere, I'm sorry-"

"It's all right, Orana." Hawke pushed open the door. "You may leave us." 

She bowed and scurried away. Fenris watched her go. Hawke, after a long, ominous silence (in which he was pleased to see Fenris' eyes drift uncomfortably to the floor), stepped aside and let him in.

"Wait wait." Hawke reopened the door as he started to shut it. "Aren't your friends coming?"

"My...friends?" Fenris stood awkwardly in the middle of the bedroom.

"Why, Donnic and Sebastian!" Hawke swung the door shut without looking. It slammed hard enough to shake the windows and make Fenris jump. "I thought they always trailed after you like baby shrews."

Fenris' face pinched. "Hawke-"

"What part of bloody 'meet me at midnight for a surprise' meant bring those two along?"

He was surprised at the acid in his voice. The whole thing was so stupid, they would all be laughing about it in a few weeks, but right now last night's shame was biting into him and he needed to put teeth marks in someone else. "Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you push them out of the room? Why didn't you do anything when I was standing there naked-"

He massaged his eyes. He was throwing a tantrum, but so what? It wasn't funny, and from Fenris's shocked expression, it wasn't funny to him either. 

"I-"

"You what?" Hawke wondered if the servants could hear him downstairs. "You _forgot?_ Oh, how novel."

Fenris' nose curled in a snarl. Good. Hawke wanted to fight. Nevermind that he was wearing a frilly night dress with his balls cold and shriveled against him and red candle wax still lodged up his ass.

"Are you willing to let me explain?" said Fenris, grinding the words out with what sounded like tremendous patience.

Hawke let the moment drag out as long as possible and sat down at his writing desk.

"I did not forget what you said, Hawke." 

"So you did it just to humiliate me?" 

Fenris' nose crinkled to full wolfishness, then smoothed. He approached the desk and swept aside a stack of letters. Then, turning around a tiny ledger, slid it across the desk to Hawke.

"What?" Hawke gave the ledger an Orlesian wave. "My day calendar. It's always-"

"On your desk." Fenris flipped open the cover and tapped yesterday's page. The last Wednesday of the month.

Hawke's stomach gave an ominous lurch. "So?"

Tap. Tap. Tap. Fenris' clawed finger did not stop until Hawke reluctantly, against the screaming acrobatics of his gut, glanced down. Sure enough, written in tiny shorthand were the symbols he wrote out each fortnight to mark his and his companion's plans. There were only two for yesterday: WG for Wicked Grace, and FDS for-

Fenris, never taking his eyes off Hawke, slowly flipped back through every month previously, to every last Wednesday of the month, month after month after month for a full year. FDS, FDS, FDS. Fenris-Donnic-Sebastian. Fenris-Donnic-Sebastian. Fenris-Donnic-Fucking Sebastian.

Hawke pursed his lips. "How was I supposed to remember?"

Fenris gave an explosive sigh and reeled away from the desk, rolling his eyes up the ceiling.

"You could have reminded me!" said Hawke, refusing, _absolutely refusing_ to believe this was somehow his fault. "I told you to meet me last night at your mansion for 'a surprise,' and you didn't think to mention, 'oh, I'm sorry Garrett, it's my weird little game night with Messere Marigolds and the Prince of Chastity, try not to be naked when I get there!'"

"Sound advice." Fenris returned to the desk, Hawke's falsetto impression doing nothing for the vein in his forehead. "What was the last 'surprise' you inflicted on me?"

Hawke thought back to their anniversary last month. "A cake," he said, remembering it splattered across the floor and Fenris' fist covered in icing.

"And before?"

Hawke thought back farther to their sixth month anniversary. "A cupcake..." More like six cupcakes decapitated under Fenris' Blade of Mercy.

"And before?"

Hawke thought back _farther_ to their first month anniversary, and refused to mention the chocolate mabari he had leapt out from behind a door with and thrust into Fenris' face only for Fenris to scream and throw his hands up like a six foot glowing toddler and rip its face off.

"Well?"

Hawke scrunched his nose. "You can't expect a man to keep track-"

Fenris reeled away again, cursing in Arcanum. He swept back to the desk and spread his taloned fingers across the littered parchment. The gesture was so familiar, so much like yesterday when Hawke was excited to do something special for his lover, that his shoulders slumped. He didn't know it was possible to feel more tired and ashamed, but he felt it impossibly now.

"You thought I'd bring something to share with our friends." Hawke felt sick.

"What else was I to think?"

"Who eats cake at midnight?"

"You have proven nothing if not predictable in your insanity."

"A candle up the ass is predictable?"

 _"I wish,"_ said Fenris, with the grating, endless patience that characterized their relationship. "You had given me warning." 

"That part wasn't exactly planned."

" _Still-_ " Fenris pushed back from the desk with both hands and sighed. "No, nevermind."

A bird fluttered around the spiderwebs outside the window. Downstairs the servants could be heard rolling up the Antivan rugs for cleaning. A neighbor's dog gave a shrill whimper, and Hawke realized Fenris was frowning at him, and not his usual angry frown.

"I am sorry, Hawke."

"Hawke diverted his attention to the floor. He suddenly felt helplessly, pitifully tired. "Did either of them say anything?"

"They left after you did."

Now it was Hawke's turn to be sorry. "So I ruined everyone's night. Wonderful. This will only get better once Donnic tells Aveline and Aveline tells Isabela and Isabela tells everyone."

"I don't think he will," said Fenris, with such sincerity that Hawke felt a pang. "They are your friends, Hawke."

 _Not that I'll ever be able to look either one of them in the eye again._ Hawke remembered the exact moment wax hit the floor. _Maker._ He buried his face in his hands.

"They um, did not inquire about the candle, if that makes it better," said Fenris, in a weak attempt at levity.

Hawke let out a bitter laugh.

"What exactly were you doing?"

Hawke lifted his weary eyes and hoped Fenris felt as stupid for asking it as he did for telling it. "I was buggering myself, Fen."

Fenris blinked. His gauntlets opened and closed. "Oh."

"Yes, _oh._ " Hawke lowered his head back to his hands, feeling an oncoming headache. He wanted nothing more now than to crawl back into bed and sleep the rest of the day away.

"Why were you-"

"Your surprise."

Fenris blinked again, in that pondering way that he meant he either didn't trust his own translation or was just baffled and didn't want to anger Hawke further. A leftover, Hawke suspected with a twinge, from his slave days.

"You buggering yourself was my surprise?" 

" _No,_ the surprise was that you walk through the door and find me naked and wanton and aching for your cock." Hawke sighed. It almost, _almost_ still sounded pleasant. "It was meant to be a reward." 

Fenris was staring at him now, with that inscrutable, puppy dog expression he sometimes got. 

"Dammit, Fen." Hawke scratched his bony knee beneath his nightgown. _I even put a bow on my cock._ "You've been so gutted since that last run to the Wounded Coast. I wanted to cheer you up."

Sighing (he really needed to stop doing that), Hawke rose and paced the room. Eventually he came back to the desk and started stacking the loose parchment. Maybe if his damned day calendar didn't get covered up this mess would never have happened.

"I don't even have to ask and there you are. I thought, maybe this time he'll have a real reason to enjoy following me. I don't know. Maybe it was foolish."

He did feel foolish, standing there with a draft between his bare arse cheeks with an invitation to the the de Launcet's Solstice party under his thumb.....and Fenris at his back not saying anything. Tomorrow they would most likely be down at the Bone Pit or up Sundermount, an inch away from death, trying to forget the stupid night the Champion of Kirkwall shoved a candle up his ass because he was too hard to plan ahead. The thought depressed him.

"I'm sorry, love." He scratched the back of his neck. "I just wanted to give you a good night. I never meant to embarrass you in front of-"

Two arms slid around his waist.

Hawke inhaled. The warmth of Fenris pressing against his back was suddenly the only thing in the world. That and the way Fenris's hips fit perfectly against his.

"I wouldn't have minded this surprise," growled Fenris. His lips began tracing slow kisses up Hawke's neck until he found an earlobe and took it between his teeth. Hawke braced himself against the desk, dizzily aware of how hard Fenris was pressing him into it. 

"Yes....well...." Words were hard to push out of his mouth. _How did this happen again?_ "What can I say, I'm-I'm a giver."

Fenris's low chuckle rumbled through his bones. "Yes, you are."

Fenris swirled his tongue to the sensitive spot behind Hawke's ear and began to suck. Hawke shivered and tilted his head. He was distantly aware of the clink of buckles and the soft thud of Fenris' gauntlets hitting the floor. 

"I'll never figure out how you do that," murmured Hawke. He melted as Fenris's rough hands slid up his nightgown and around his back to massage the tension from his chest. 

"We can't all lay about in dowager nightgowns." Fenris gave a firm press against Hawke's ass. 

"I'll have you know my sister gifted me this for-" Fenris caught his mouth in a kiss and he was gone. There was nothing after that but giving in.

A year ago, Fenris would have thrown him to the ground and hammered him like a loose floorboard. It would have been painful, unsatisfying relief, and perhaps back then that was all they needed. Now, Hawke was lucky if Fenris started on him within an hour of kissing. Whatever starved animal had been inside him that forced him to _take and take and take_ had been replaced with something slower, indulgent, the glad hunger of a wolf in summer.

 _A lot of practice didn't hurt either._

_A lot of practice,_ thought Hawke, as Fenris gently bent him over and pressed his warm, muscled tongue just where Hawke needed it, lapping and fluttering and fucking him with his perfect wet mouth and spitting-

_Spitting?_

Hawke ducked his head to find Fenris on the floor, face scrunched and spitting into his palm. A pearl of red wax clung to his lip.

"Oh. Yeah." Hawke scratched his leg. "I didn't exactly get a chance to take a bath-"

Fenris glared and wiped his tongue on the back of his hand. Hawke might have made a joke about plugging that big mouth of his if the elf didn't seize an armful of each thigh and tip him backwards onto the desk. Hawke's shoulders hit the wood with a crash, driving the breath out of him. A second later his legs were thrown over armored shoulders and his cock expertly swallowed. Hawke gripped the edge of the desk and let his head fall back, straining to keep his legs raised above Fenris' damned prickly shoulder feathers that for whatever barmpot reason he insisted keeping on during sex. He was suddenly unworried about what Sebastian and Donnic would or wouldn't tell their friends.

"It wasn't.....that candle wasn't a gift was it-- _umf._ " Hawke's mind blanked as Fenris licked a broad stripe up his cock. 

"The Grand Cleric handed it to me during a service," said Fenris, giving Hawke's a few slow, infuriating rolls of his fist. "It was meant to be lit in times of great suffering." 

"You'll have to tell her about the alternative uses- _ah!_ " Hawke white-knuckled the edge of the desk and tried to hang on, frayed and trembling. "You're going to damned well kill me."

"Hmmmm." Fenris swirled his tongue.

"So....we're even on this?" Hawke squinted one eye as Fenris roughly kneaded his balls. "We put all this behind us and I never try- _un_ \- something this stupid again?"

Fenris let Hawke's drooling cock pop out of his mouth and tapped the head against his lips. "That would be a surprise."

Hawke laughed weakly, and decided sure, in two weeks, in five, when Kirkwall got bored of the tale of The Champion With The Candle In His Ass, he might try again. If it meant Fenris' exquisite mouth all over him, he couldn't find much to complain about.

First though, he thought, as Fenris swallowed down his release, he would need a bigger fucking calendar.


End file.
